4 – The Final Journey

Donna’s grandfather, Wilfred Mott, had found him in the middle of a wasteland in the middle of nowhere and then dragged him to a sad little café. They sat at the table talking, but his mind was on the Master. And the prophecy. He was going to die. He didn’t want to die.

“Oh, we had some good times, didn’t we though?” the old man was saying with a grin, “I mean, all those ATMOS things, and planets in the sky, and me with that paint gun,” the joy in his face dropped suddenly as he continued, taking a deep breath, “I keep seeing things, Doctor. I-, uh- This face at night.”

“Who are you?” the Doctor asked him suddenly, a look of concern and confusion on his face.

“I’m Wilfred Mott,” he replied seriously.

“No,” the Doctor replied, “People have waited hundreds of years to find me and then you manage it in a few hours.”

There was something…someone who had made it possible for this man to find him.  He couldn’t figure out who…or why.

“Well, I’m just lucky I suppose,” Wilfred replied.

“No, we keep on meeting, Wilf,” he said, trying to explain that everything happened for a reason, whether he wanted it to or not, “Over and over again like something’s still connecting us.”

“What’s so important about me?” Wilfred asked honestly.

“Exactly. Why you?” he asked, not being cruel, but really wanting to know. The look on Wilfred’s face told him that the earthling had no idea why either. He looked away, out into the street, still coming to grips with what he had been told. He said sadly, “I’m going to die.”

“Well, so am I, one day,” Wilf said, trying to cheer him up.

“Don’t you dare,” the Doctor replied, rolling his eyes.

“All right, I’ll try not to,” he responded with a chuckle.

“But I was told,” he said, the tears gathering in his eyes, “He will knock four times,” he took a deep breath, “That was the prophecy. Knock four times, and then…”

“Yeah, but I thought, when I saw you before,” Wilf said, leaning forward, “you said your people could change, like, your whole body.”

“I can still die,” the Doctor answered, “If I’m killed before regeneration, then I’m dead,” he leaned forward and spoke to the air above Wilf’s head.  He knew Wilf might not understand, but that ever-present Angel on his shoulder would, “Even then, even if I change, it feels like dying. Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away, and I’m dead.”

He looked at the sadness in Wilf’s face change as he looked out the window.

“What?” he said as he turned to look. There, on the street at her car, he saw Donna.  Wilf tried to convince him that he needed to go to her, but he knew he couldn’t…as much as he wanted to…he couldn’t. The fiancé was there, and she seemed happy enough.

“Is she happy? Is he nice?” he asked Wilf.

“Yeah, he’s sweet enough,” Wilf said, “He’s a bit of a dreamer. Mind you, he’s on minimum wage, she’s earning tuppence, so all they can afford is a tiny little flat. And then sometimes I see this look on her face like she’s so sad, but she can’t remember why.”

“She’s got him,” the Doctor smirked, not without a little bit of jealousy.  He and Donna could have been together forever, flying the stars…but now she was there, across the street, yelling at a traffic warden with the man she was going to marry.

“She’s making do,” Wilf said.

“Aren’t we all?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah, how about you?” Wilf asked him politely, “Who have you got now?”

“No one,” the Doctor said, “Travelling alone…I thought it was better…But I did some things,” he couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over, “It went wrong…I need…”

“Oh, my word. I’m sorry,” Wilf said quietly as he reached out.

He felt Metatron’s wings against his face, and he inhaled deeply. Inwardly, he yelled, ‘Not right now, you git!’  He mentally and emotionally shook himself and it translated into a physical motion as well.

“Merry Christmas,” he said with a weak smile.

“Yeah, and you,” Wilf said with a laugh. He laughed as well, trying to lighten things.

“Look at us,” he said shaking his head slightly.

“But don’t you see?” Wilf said sadly, “You know, you need her, Doctor. I mean, look. Wouldn’t she make you laugh again? Good old Donna?”

He watched as Donna drove off with her boyfriend. Inside, his hearts said ‘Yes, I need her. She kept me sane when Rose left. Yes, I need her. She made me laugh. Yes, I need her. She was the one person who ever kept me from going too far…,’ but his brain, his logic, his understanding of time and space said, ‘No.  She will die. So, no.’

Despite what he wanted, he couldn’t respond to Wilf’s questions. It hurt too much to say “yes” and it would have killed him to say “no.”  Throwing his overcoat back on, he stormed out of the café without another word, without a backward glance. Things needed doing. He needed to find The Master. As much as he wanted to run like the coward he once was, he needed to meet his fate head-on.  In his head, he heard, ‘Soon, my child. Soon.’

He stopped at that.

“Why?” he asked the Archangel, “Why me? Why now?”

“This life is ending,” Metatron said to him, “I will be a part of you, but you will hardly know I’m there.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said angrily, “Why me? Why do you want to be with…inhabit…use me?”

“Madness consumes the one like you,” Metatron said softly.

“The Master,” the Doctor said sadly.

“Yes,” came the response, “his madness makes him unsuitable.”

“If he weren’t mad?”

“I would still not have him as a vessel.”

“Why not? He’s here, which is something he wasn’t before.”

“Exactly,” Metatron said, “He’s an abomination. He is what should not be. His madness intensifies because his physical body died and has been brought back. But his body could not contain me, and his mind would burn up trying to control me.  He is not suitable. Only you are suitable.”

“I don’t want to be suitable.”

“I know, child. But you will want me with you in the end.”

“You know what’s coming.”

“Yes,” Metatron said, “Something that was yet should not be. Something that was yet never was. Something of the past and future but not the present. But you are here to stop it. You must go through this before our time together will happen.”

“The prophecy said I will die,” he said, “I don’t want to die.”

“I know, my child,” Metatron said with a sad sigh, “and I will help your soul to not die. That is all I can promise.”

“Well, a fat lot of good that’ll do me,” the Doctor groused as he topped the hill into the pit where he knew the Master lie in wait.

“Beware of the mad one, Doctor,” Metatron cautioned, “he is more than he would seem.”

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